


and your lucky numbers are...

by emmaofmisthaven



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sky High, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4806740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaofmisthaven/pseuds/emmaofmisthaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And here comes the White Swan, gracing us with her presence.”<br/>(“It makes sense, etymologically speaking. Emma Blanchard. Your mother is the White Brigand.”) Emma flips him the bird, just to keep with the ornithology theme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and your lucky numbers are...

“And here comes the White Swan, gracing us with her presence.”

It’s not always that Emma’s mother drops her off at school but when she does, Killian makes sure to be a rightful dick about it. She despises the name, and he knows it – which is exactly why he keeps using it to ruffles her feathers, metaphorical and otherwise. (“It makes sense, etymologically speaking. Emma _Blanchard_. Your mother is the _White_ Brigand.”) Emma flips him the bird, just to keep with the ornithology theme.

Killian grins and pushes away from the walls against which he was leaning, all broad shoulders and leather jacket. She remembers a time where he was scrawny, long useless limbs and a chest to cry for (not in the good way). But that’s defensive superpowers for you – he had to gain weight to hold his own, and Emma, as well as all other students attracted to men, can’t say she complains in the least. He’s easy on the eyes, even if a pain on another part of her anatomy.

“History Untold this morning,” she tells him.

Killian reacts accordingly, with a groan and a face. “Ugh. Kill me already.”

She arches an eyebrow because – well. Killian has always been the boy next door, missing tooth and crooked smile, her friend only because he forced himself into her life. That’s how she showed him her mother’s lair, because she trusted him. Of course, he touched something radioactive even if he shouldn’t have, and it would have killed him on the spot but – it didn’t, and that’s the entire point. Nothing can kill him anymore. So he jokes about it. A lot. It’s not funny.

But he’s right about how boring History Untold is – two hours of superhero history, the kind you’d never find in books or on the news. On top of a regular history class, because Sky High is awful like that. Emma drags her feet, a little, and spends two hours doodling in the margins of her notebook or playing hangman with Killian. At least today’s lecture isn’t about the White Brigand – those are the most embarrassing ones, with the stares and the knowing smirks.

The class comes and goes, and then chemistry after that, and lunch time. There’s a round of Save The Citizen this afternoon, and Emma wonders who she’ll be paired with this week – last week she teamed with Ruby, and the brunette’s shape-shifting abilities prove themselves to be more than efficient. Nobody wants to cross the big bad wold, after all.

As it turns out, she’s paired with Killian, which – it’s not that she hates it, but they’ve been paired together since freshman year. They’re a well-oiled team at this point, they could do it with their eyes closed or something. Which, then again, not really annoying, but it kind of takes away the excitement of Save The Citizen. But Killian smirks at her, with a nod to the clock above her head, before he rolls back his shoulders and – okay, game on.

Ruby, along with Mulan, are the villain team this week, and both brunettes send Emma a victorious smirk as the clock rings, announcing the beginning of the party. Everything falls into place rapidly after that, Ruby turning into a wolf and pouncing on Killian, while Mulan conjures a weapon out of thin air – a long sword, her favourite – and runs towards Emma. She claps her hands, just in time for Mulan’s sword to clash against the white force field in front of her. Then, with a glance, she sends another ball of energy Ruby’s way, just hard enough to throw her away from where she stands with her paws on Killian’s chest, growling at him.

Killian doesn’t think twice about it, jumping on his feet and running towards the centre of the ring – Emma keeps protecting him, watching his back. It only takes a few seconds after that, clock buzzing above their heads as he free the Citizen-mummy from its trap. People cheer in the bleachers, Ruby mock-groans her disappointment.

“Nicely done, White Swan.” Killian raises an arm in front of him, hand closed into a fist, and Emma playfully bumps her forearm against his as a sign of victory.

“New record,” she says, nodding to the clock.

“Told you,” he replies, all smug, no restraint. And then, because she’s known him for years, she adds with him, “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Killian looks even smugger, if possible, the point of his ears turning a little pink. It’s endearing, not that Emma would say it out loud because – well, he has an ego the size of the American continent, so he really doesn’t need her to make it worse. He’s doing a good enough job of it himself.

 

…

 

There are many perks to having a superhero mom but – she works, a lot, and Emma barely ever sees her as it is. It’s a little difficult sometimes, because she doesn’t want to sound selfish and ask for her mother’s attention when supervillains are tearing the world apart but. She’s a teenager girl. She’s allowed to be upset about it, sometimes.

Thankfully, she has her father – her very mundane, normal, work-at-the-animal-shelter father – and so it compensates, a little. He makes her banana pancakes for breakfast and grilled cheese for diner, and they watch baseball matches together, and it’s great. He also tries to help her with her homework, which is the most adorable thing ever. They’re lost together, more often than not, staring at her chemistry exercises and pretending they understand everything.

It’s on one such afternoon – mom gone some place to save the world, dad at the shelter – than Killian climbs up her wall and enters by the window. Which, okay. He’s done weirder things before, all things considered. (Weirdest things include forgetting he develops gills in the water, and not opting out when they went to the swimming pool in middle school.)

“What’s up?”

“What’s up yourself,” she replies, not looking up from her book. Damn chemistry.

“Jeff is throwing a party tonight.”

She does look up, if only to give him an unimpressed look. “Trying to drink yourself into a torpor again, Legolas?”

“Well. Yeah.”

He falls on her bed, arms folded under his head, like he belongs here. Which, he kind of does, because he’s fallen asleep there a couple of time, after parties or study sessions or just when she falls asleep on him when they watch a movie and he doesn’t want to move and wake her up. He’s slept there more times than her actual boyfriends, and it says a lot.

(No boyfriend ever slept there, come to think about it.)

“Help me with that supervillain homework first.”

He all to happily obliges.

 

…

 

Jefferson’s party is – well, Jefferson’s party. Lots of booze, lots of loud music, lots of teenagers not knowing how to deal with their powers once drunk. Not exactly Emma’s idea of time well spent, but she kissed Elsa in the kitchen once, all cold lips and vodka taste, so it’s nice. She, like, tolerates Jefferson’s parties, and wishes she could say the same about Jefferson himself.

True to his words, Killian tries to get drunk – and fails miserably. She sips from a red solo cup as he downs a bottle of rum, blinks twice, and groans. No matter how hard he tries, his metabolism always works faster – his fingers tingled, once, but he never managed to do it again. Never stopped him from trying, again, and again, and again. Emma admires his stubbornness.

“Come on, dance with me.”

He’s better at dancing than he is at drinking, so he follows her as she drags him to the space they turned into a dance floor in the middle of the living room. It involves a lot of bouncing around and little dancing, but Emma has fun and it’s all that matters. Killian pulls her towards him, hands on her hips, her back to his chest and – okay, maybe she’s the one who’s drunk.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells her, words a little slurred. (Fake.)

“And you’re full of shit,” she replies with a nervous laugh.

(Here’s the thing: Killian has been in love with her since the day he understood how his dick works, and has never been subtle about it. Emma knows, Ruby knows, the teachers know. The villain her mother fought off this afternoon probably knows too.)

(Here’s the thing: she’s been getting there, too. She’s subtle about it, and freaking out about it. Killian is her oldest, closest friend, and she doesn’t want to ruin that. To ruin them. So she’s good at getting drunk and clinging to his shoulders, and pretending nothing happened the following day while she nurses her hangover.)

“I could die for you,” he goes on, so matter-of-fact it hurts.

She doesn’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever. She doesn’t want him to get all serious about it while she’s grinding against him to bad music, she doesn’t want to even think what it would feel like, turning around and kissing him, hard and dirty, dragging him toward an empty room and – no.

“You _can’t_ die.”

“I would _try_.”

He drops his head to her shoulder, and Emma raises a hand to card her fingers through his hair, swinging to the music. She’s suddenly really relieved there is no telepath at school because – well, she would be fucked, clearly. Her brain is sending loud warnings to her every muscle (this traitor of a heart, he refuses to listen) even as she closes her eyes and keeps dancing, ignores Killian’s lips against her neck.

One day, he’ll be the death of her.

No coming back from it.

 

…

 

The month before final exams is the most stressful of their entire life. You can become a real, official superhero, costume and name and all, only if you pass your exams, so – they’re right to be stressing over it. The gymnasium is turned into a field of bobby traps, and they’re allowed to train to their heart’s content when they don’t have classes.

Which is exactly what Emma is doing right now. Her History Untold class was cancelled, and most of the other students decided to lock themselves at the library to work on their written tests. The gymnasium is empty, and it’s perfect – she’s not so fond of people watching her when she’s training, because their criticizing eyes only make it worse for her, and it leads to losing her focus. She can’t allow that.

She pulls her hair into a high ponytail, and mentally goes through the obstacle course one more time. She jumps on the spot once or twice to warm up, then starts running. Everything falls into place easily from there – she avoids one booby trap, defuses another with a blast of energy, protects herself from a falling one with a force field. She has it covered, and her breathing isn’t uneven yet. It’s good.

She grows confident, and it’s her mistake.

Holding up her force field in front of her with one hand, she uses the other to blast at a mechanical dummy to her left. It leaves her right side vulnerable, so she doesn’t see the other dummy coming her way until it’s too late – punching her to the side, and she trips over a wire in the process. A loud ‘snap!’ has her dangling from the ceiling by her ankle before she has time to understand what is going on.

“ _Fuck_!” she yells to no one in particular.

The blood rushes to her head and leaves her dizzy for a moment, before she takes a deep breath and tries to grabs her ankle to get herself free. It would be quite the fall, but it’s always better than standing there until someone shows up to help her out. Her fingers barely manage to hold on to the fabric of her yoga pants, though, so all her desperate attempts are useless.

Until someone slowly, sarcastically, claps at her.

She lets go of her pants with a groan, louder when she notices who is facing her. He looks funny upside down, his smirk even more mocking, his stance even smugger. She hates him so much she’s thinking of blasting a ball of energy at his face for the heck of it.

“Need help?”

“Not yours.”

Killian clicks his tongue even as he comes closer, only a few inches between them. He’s close, too close, and it’s not the blood in her ears that leaves her lightheaded this time. She flutters her eyes without meaning to, and blames it on her current situation. Something occurs to her then, something about her hanging upside down and him facing her and – she blames it on the blood to her head, and how it messes up with her mind a little, when the smile blossoms on her lips.

“I have a knack for getting in trouble.”

Killian’s eyes widen as they travel from her eyes to her lips, then her eyes again. From this reaction alone, there is no doubt he recognized the line from the movie, especially knowing how many times they laughed at it out of boredom. His ears turn red, and his cheeks with them and – he doesn’t blush often, rarely every flustered, but Emma loves it when it happens. Emma loves it when there are cracks in his bad boy persona, less swagger, more adorable nerd.

He wets his lips, slowly, deliberately. “I have a knack for saving your life,” he mirrors the line at her, his voice low and husky and all kinds of sinful. “You are amazing,” he adds, and maybe it’s not the line from the movie, maybe he actually believes it. (He does.)

He stares at her lips again, but doesn’t move. It dawns on her – she isn’t the only one afraid to make the first move. So she grabs his shirt and pulls him closer, and he gets the hint alright. His lips are soft against hers, tentative. The angle doesn’t help either, the kiss more awkward than it should be, but then Emma tilts her head to the side and deepens the kiss with a hand on the back of Killian’s head, and it makes everything better.

Killian breaks away with a grin and a kiss on her nose, and it might be the most disgustingly adorable thing ever. “But, seriously. Need my help, Jessica Drew?”

“Oh shut up.”

She throws a blast of energy at the booty trap and breaks her fall with a force field. She also kisses Killian the moment she’s back on her feet, and it’s the best thing ever.


End file.
